


breathe in, breathe out

by darkesthorizon



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-03 01:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkesthorizon/pseuds/darkesthorizon
Summary: Dan never thought he'd have to live without Phil, but sometimes he thinks wrong.





	breathe in, breathe out

**Author's Note:**

> please check the tags before reading! I cried a lot while writing this so just be careful, please.
> 
> huge thank you to claire (@phloridas on tumblr) for reading this as as I wrote and crying along with me, I couldn't have done this without you!

It had started a few months ago. They were playing Mario Kart, as they do, when it happened. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dan hissed, veering sharply in the game as he jumped over a shell.

“It wasn’t me!” Phil retorted, eyes never straying from the screen. “Don’t even worry about it!”

“Then who the fuck-?” Another shell hit Dan, but this time he knew where it came from. “Phil!”

Phil grinned, and leaped up when he passed the finish line, “First place!” 

“You absolute...” Dan huffed fondly, “dingo.” 

Phil turned round, disgustingly proud of himself, “That was a good one, Dan. I can really feel the hatred seeping out of you right now.”

Dan rolled his eyes, then launched himself off the sofa at Phil. Phil squealed, darting away from his grasp as best he could. Dan lunged, managing to get Phil by the waist and sent them both tumbling to the floor. 

They were giggling, until Dan realised Phil had stopped. Instead, he was frowning.

“You alright?” Dan asked.

Phil nodded, “My chest just started hurting.”

Dan poked it. Phil winced. “You’re getting old,” he decided. 

“Maybe.” Phil shrugged, except they were on the floor, so he kind of just slid his arms around. 

“Good thing I’m into older men, then.” 

Phil huffed, “Gross.”

Dan laughed, then leaned down into the last bit of space between them and planted a kiss on Phil’s lips. Phil sighed when they separated, reluctantly letting go of Dan’s arms so they could both stand up. 

They were cleaning up the pizza they had earlier that evening when it happened again. 

Phil had stopped mid-walk to the kitchen to clutch at his chest. His face dropped, then contorted. He coughed once, then again, then again. 

Dan looked up, “Phil? You sure you’re okay?”

Phil didn’t answer, just yanked a tissue from the box nearest him and hacked into it. He coughed a few more times before he abruptly stopped, looking distraught. He regarded the tissue with a gross look on his face. “Uh, okay. I might be getting sick,” he said. 

“Old man,” Dan chuckled to himself, “Go lie down, I’ll finish cleaning up.”

Phil nodded, and retreated to their room. 

As soon as he’d gone, Dan sighed. Phil was constantly getting sick lately. He usually recovered in a couple days, when he finally gave in and slept it off. So this wasn’t anything new to Dan.

He finished up in the lounge, and then crept into the bedroom with each hand brandishing a glass of water. Phil was already asleep, his chest rising and falling seemingly normal enough. Dan placed the water gently on Phil’s side table before shucking off his clothes and crawling up next to Phil’s warmth. 

There was a bit of black hair falling in front of Phil’s eyes, so Dan reached up and gently brushed it back from his forehead. Phil shifted slightly in his sleep, falling a bit into Dan as if gravity had turned on its side for a moment. He made a contented sound deep in the back of his throat, and Dan felt shivers travel down his spine. 

Phil stirred, and his eyes opened briefly, spotting Dan before shutting again.

Dan smiled to himself, then whispered, “Feeling any better?”

“Still hurts.” Phil mumbled, squishing his nose into his pillow. 

Dan sighed, “Okay,” and he dropped it. 

They don’t talk about it anymore after that.

At least, not until now.

They’re lying in bed, as they do most mornings. It’s been months since the original incident, but Phil still complains about chest pain every now and again. He simply chalks it up to old age.

Dan has his laptop placed precariously on his lap, scrolling mindlessly through emails and his twitter feed to catch up. 

Phil is still half asleep next to him, tucked almost completely under the duvet. He looks quite like a child, swaddled in a blanket, but Dan doesn’t care. 

It’s just before ten when he checks the time, so he carefully peels himself from the sheets, shivering at the cold air that rushes over him. He finds his discarded sweatpants in a heap where he left them, and pulls them on before traversing to the kitchen. 

Dan considers making them both an extravagant breakfast in bed for about two seconds before realising how much time and effort that would require. He starts the coffee, and makes them both cereal.

Right when the coffee is ready, he hears a few coughs behind him. He turns around.

“Morning,” he greets Phil, “Cereal?”

“I knew I kept you around for a good reason.” Phil chuckles, voice still low and crackly from sleep. He crosses the kitchen in a few strides. Phil snakes his arms around Dan’s waist, resting his palms against the small of his back, pulling him close. Phil kisses him, and Dan melts a little bit. 

Dan hums against Phil’s lips, pulling back slightly but letting his eyes rest on the slope of Phil’s face, “Good to know all that stalking amounted to something.” Dan teases. 

Phil laughs, unraveling himself from Dans waist and guiding him with a firm hand on the back of his neck to softly kiss his forehead. “Anime?” He grabs his bowl of cereal from the counter and makes his way to the lounge. 

Dan nods and follows suit, flopping himself down in his spot, cereal bowl in hand. Phil settles beside him, legs folded neatly in front of him. He clears his throat under his breath. Dan knows he doesn’t want him to hear it, he knows Phil doesn’t want him to worry. It’s been months and they still haven’t really talked about it. 

So, Dan doesn’t say anything, not yet. He figures Phil will mention if it gets worse. 

He really hopes he’s right about that. 

Maybe he’s not, because just then he hears something odd. It sounds vaguely like a dog whistle, but more airy. Almost like-

Phil suddenly leans forward a bit, eyes screwed up in pain.

“Phil?” Dan practically gets whiplash with how fast he sits upright, “Phil, look at me,” he coaxes, rubbing Phil’s back to distract from the discomfort. 

Phil sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, “Fuck, that one was actually painful,” he grits, jaw so tense Dan can see his veins down to his neck. The strange high pitched sound has turned into a full-out wheeze that gets louder with each breath Phil takes. 

“I’m taking you to see a doctor.” Dan moves to stand, but a vice-like grip on his forearm prevents him from going anywhere. 

Phil looks up at him, eyes pleading, “I just want to lay here for a bit, if that’s okay. Can’t move.”

“Okay. Do you need anything?”

“Just you.”

“I can do that.” Dan finds Phil’s hand and loosely winds their fingers together. It’s cold. Dan frowns. He turns Phil’s palm over in his hand. He blinks twice, “Phil,” he says, suddenly. 

“Yeah?”

Dan brings Phil’s palm closer to his eyes. He’s definitely not hallucinating. “Your fingers are blue.” Dan can’t make his eyes look away. Phil’s fingers are pale, like usual, until the last knuckle on each finger. It looks like Phil’s dipped his hand in a tub of blue paint. 

Phil’s eyebrows shoot up, “What?”

Dan lifts the hand so Phil can see. He watches Phil’s eyes go wide, “I didn’t even feel it.”

“Okay, we’re absolutely going to see a doctor.”

Phil’s still looking at his hands in awe. “This is so weird,” he says.

“It’s concerning, is what it is.” Dan stands up and walks to grab a set of keys from their hook.

“What, we’re going _now_?”

“Yes, now.”

“It’s, like, eleven o’clock in the morning.”

“Yes, and urgent care is open.” Dan gestures his arms wildly for Phil to get up.

Phil sighs, pushing himself off of the couch, “Alright, I’m coming.”

 

Twenty minutes later, they’re in a sterile white room that smells vaguely of saline. Phil sits on the table, swinging his legs back and forth aimlessly. Dan’s leg is bouncing rapidly. These rooms make him claustrophobic. 

Luckily, the door swings open and a tall doctor walks in, “Hello, I’m Doctor Brown. You must be Phil,” he says, shaking Phil’s hand. He turns to Dan, hand extended, “And you are…?”

“Dan,” he shakes the doctor’s hand, “His partner.”

Doctor Brown checks something on the computer, then turns to them, “Great, how are you today, Phil?”

Phil shrugs, glancing at Dan, “Fine, I hope.”

Doctor Brown laughs, “Trust me, I hope so too. What made you come in?”

“Uh, well,” Phil brandishes his hands first, “this was the final straw.”

“This is called cyanosis, it’s caused by a number of things, medical and non-medical, but it can be an indicator combined with other symptoms. Tell me about those.”

“He’s been having chest issues,” Dan adds. Phil doesn’t like doing the talking very much, so he does it for him, “Complains that it hurts. Sometimes he has issues breathing, too, like wheezing for no reason and coughing forever.”

“I see. Alright, I’m going to do a few things to narrow down the possibilities.” The doctor does some basic tests, prodding at Phil’s hands and taking his blood pressure and whatnot. Then, he pulls out the stethoscope. 

Dan watches the doctor’s face with curiosity, trying to get something, _anything_ out of the practiced blank slate look. He gets nothing from that, but he does pick up on the unusually long span of time it’s taking to listen to Phil’s chest or whatever. That doesn’t seem good. 

“What is it?”

“I heard some crackles when you exhaled. That means it’s definitely something in your lungs. Let me try one more thing. When I say, I’m going to need you to exhale as much air as you can in one second. Try your very best, as we want this to be as accurate as possible.”

Phil does as he’s told, and the doctor measures it. 

“About seventy-six percent, okay.” he pauses, typing something furiously, “I have a hunch, but I’ll need to do a DNA test.”

“Okay.” Phil says, a little confusion seeping into his tone.

Doctor Brown pulls out a blue package and starts piecing things together as he talks, “Based on what you’ve told me, and what I’ve seen, it seems like you have symptoms that match up with COPD. That’s chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, it means your lungs aren’t getting the proper amount of airflow through them. However, this usually occurs in older patients, hence why we need the DNA sample.

“Younger people like yourself with COPD often have something called an alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency. That just means you’re more susceptible to lung diseases. Obviously, we won’t know for sure if that’s what it is until the results come in, but I’m going to prescribe a special inhaler to help with your breathing.”

Phil’s face must be three shades whiter than it was when they first walked in. Dan can feel how wide his eyes have gone.

Phil beats him to a response, “So, what do I do besides use this inhaler thing?”

“As of right now, nothing. COPD isn’t fatal on its own, but it would be smart to avoid people who are ill or activities that could make you ill. I’ll call when I have the results in, and then we can figure out what course of action to take.”

Dan processes slowly, trying to take in everything that Doctor Brown just threw at them. It was a lot of information, and it all sounded scary to him.

Doctor Brown takes out an inhaler to show Phil how to use it, then writes the prescription for them to pick up, “Dont worry about anything but this right now,” he reassures them both, “Take care.”

They leave rather unceremoniously, returning home with a tiny plastic handheld device and a lot of information they didn’t completely understand. 

“That was a lot.” Phil remarks, “I don’t know what to think.”

“You should rest, and keep that thing handy,” Dan points to the thing the doctor had called a bronchodilator. 

“Alright, _mum_ , I will.” Phil flops on the sofa, sprawled like a starfish, both legs propped up on the big floof.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you still love me.”

“Right.” Dan pokes at Phil’s side and gets a boop on the nose in return. Dan scrounges around for a blanket before coming up with two to drape over the both of them. They curl into each other while watching whatever they end up clicking on. Dan loves this the most. Existing with Phil is the best thing he could ever do, he believes. He’s safe and he’s happy, and that’s all he had ever wished for himself. 

 

Doctor Brown calls them the following week to confirm his suspicions. Phil has the deficiency he was tested for, and should stay away from sick people and keep his immune system strong. 

Naturally, Dan took it upon himself to shelter Phil from everything at all costs. 

“You need to rest, Phil,” he argues for the millionth time that day. He’s just about ready to throw Phil over his shoulder and carry him to bed just like that.

“But the doctor said-” Phil protests.

“I don’t care what the bloody doctor said!”

“Dan, please-” Phil stops, closes his eyes, and breathes in as steady as he can. His face contorts up in pain, and he coughs. His eyelids blink open slowly, meeting Dan’s concerned gaze halfway. Phil opens his mouth as if to speak, but he suddenly launches into a bout of coughing.

When he stops coughing, he looks sheepishly over at Dan. “Maybe I will stay in bed,” he says, smiling weakly. His breaths suddenly come out in faster intervals, and Dan can hear the beginnings of a wheeze. 

Dan reaches over to grab the bronchodilator off the bedside table. He leans back next to Phil and places a warm hand on his back, running circles over his shoulder blades. 

Phil takes the device, manages to exhale the way he’s supposed to, and takes a puff. He steadies, his breathing evening back out into a slightly ragged pattern. Phil clutches the bronchodilator in his fist, squeezing so hard his knuckles turn white. Dan places a hand over Phil’s, feeling him relax slightly.

Phil finally looks at Dan, “I’m not going to die, Dan.”

Dan scoffs, and tilts his head forward until his forehead is pressed just above Phil’s ear. “Not on my watch.” _Not while I’m still breathing_ , Dan thinks silently to himself. 

 

The next few months are a blur for both of them. They’ve got no events or tours or anything really but repetitive days they spend doing next to nothing. Namely, Dan taking care of Phil, who has been getting a little worse for wear in every way possible. 

They’ve been told Phil is in the second stage of COPD, and his symptoms should taper off soon and stay at a manageable level. So far, nothing too strange has happened, but Dan was still worried every time Phil spiraled into a coughing fit.

Six months is nothing special for them.

The seventh month is what makes Dan afraid. 

Phil wakes up that morning fine. Or, rather, as fine as he could be these days. Hell, they don’t even realise anything is out of the ordinary for most of the day.

Until they’re eating pizza on the couch and Phil goes still. He grips Dan’s arm so tightly his fingers turn white, “Dan, something feels different,” he says. There’s something in his voice that makes Dan’s chest tighten.

Dan searches Phil’s face for something. For what, exactly, he’s not quite sure. He thinks maybe he just needs to see Phil. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He needs to be sane for the both of them.

“I- I don’t know. It feels like I’m breathing in a lake.” Phil’s lip quivers slightly, and he doesn’t meet Dan’s eyes. 

Dan really wishes he would look at him. He presses the back of his hand to Phil’s forehead. It’s burning his skin, and he can see Phil wringing his hands together to stop them from shaking. “I’m taking you to A+E.”

Phil doesn’t protest for a second, but Dan really wishes he would. 

They get in a car, and Phil immediately collapses on the seat. He’s breathing rapidly now, and his face is twisted into one of someone who’s trying hard not to scream or cry or do anything other than breathe. 

Dan doesn’t know what to expect. They’re in another white-walled box of despair, and Phil is leaning on him far too much for it to be just casual affection. The weight on Dan is too much. Phil he can handle. Everything else? He feels like he might step too far in the wrong direction and send them both tumbling to their end. 

All the walls look the same. Dan has walked through so many rooms that they all start to melt together. He doesn’t register when Phil is taken from his shoulder and laid on a cart, or when he’s led into another bleak room to wait for something to happen. 

He’s not allowed in to see Phil, not yet. They needed to do some scans or tests or whatever the hell they’d told Dan hours ago.

Dan’s never been one to pray, but right now that seems like the only thing he _should_ be doing. Phil isn’t right next to him like always. He’s in another room, in what feels like another damn country, and Dan doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen. 

A nurse finally, _finally_ walks into the room and calls for Dan, who springs out of his chair so quickly he startles the lady next to him.

He’s allowed in to see Phil, and Dan finally feels like he can breathe again.

Phil is awake, just barely, and he smiles so brightly when he sees Dan that Dan nearly cries tears of happiness. He’s okay. He’s okay and he’s here.

He crosses the room and takes Phil’s hand, resolving to not let go until they leave this stupid hospital. 

The nurse is standing over the bed, checking a few things before smiling routinely at the both of them and informing them that a doctor will be in soon to see them. For the time being, she leaves them alone.

Dan can’t think of anything to say. He just wants the solidarity of being here with Phil right now. 

Phil notices, “I’m okay, Dan. Really.”

Dan knows that whatever he wants to say won’t help calm either of them, so he just nods and squeezes the hand in his.

The doctor comes in, and Dan realises that he’s tired of doctors telling them things they don’t want to hear.

He doesn’t hear much besides “Interstitial pneumonia” and “no cure”. 

Phil’s COPD is in stage three now, and the internet tells Dan that there’s only one more stage before Phil might need help breathing on his own. 

Dan stops thinking about what happens after that.

 

When the doctor gives him a number, Dan feels like he might need to be hospitalized right along with Phil.

Dan was the one who always worried about death. Phil had never once been concerned in the same ways Dan had. He wasn’t bothered because it wasn’t an issue for him. 

It wasn’t supposed to be Phil who was confronted with the reality of his own death.

Six months, they say. There’s a “maybe” tacked on as an afterthought.

Phil isn’t allowed to leave the ICU. They say it’d be too much of a risk at this point. 

Dan doesn’t leave his side. He can’t make himself do it. Every time he leaves Phil alone he feels like something will happen. 

_Not on my watch_ , he’d said. _Not while I’m still breathing_. 

They’re alone today. They haven’t been alone in a while, and Dan’s not sure he likes it any better than being surrounded by nurses. 

It’s one of the rare times that Phil is fully conscious and breathing fairly normally. Dan’s head is rested on the edge of the bed, exhausted to no end. Phil’s fingers card through his hair lightly. 

“I need you to call my mum.” Phil says. 

That’s the final straw, Dan thinks. “I don’t know if I can,” he says. He really doesn’t know. That would make all this a whole lot more real. 

Phil closes his eyes, “I know, but we need to. I haven’t given her an update in a week. She’s probably worried.”

“I can’t- I can’t be the one to tell her.” They still haven’t talked about it, not really. 

“It has to be you. You know it does.”

Dan knows. Phil can’t do it. Neither of them want to, but Dan _has_ to. “Okay, I'll call her tonight.”

He does. The nurse comes back in and kicks Dan out for a few hours, and he calls her. 

The phone is ringing, and it suddenly hits Dan like a tsunami wave. He closes his eyes, clenches the cheap hospital coffee in his hand, and pulls it together. 

It picks up. “Hello?” Kath’s voice is much too knowing for Dan’s liking. 

“Hi, Kathryn. Uh, how are you?”

“I’m alright,” she says, “What’s wrong, dear? Is it Phil?”

Dan feels it brewing in his sternum. It’s bubbling and threatening to spill over at any moment. She knows. He can feel it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “It’s Phil. We’re in the hospital.”

He hears rustling on the other end of the phone, then Kath’s voice, much quieter this time, “Oh dear,” she pauses before asking the question Dan really doesn’t want to hear, “How long?”

Dan feels the tears threatening to spill over, and turns his head down, inspecting his shoes. “Six months if we’re lucky.”

Silence. Then, “Nigel and I are flying in tomorrow. We’ll stay for as long as you need.”

The tears come. Dan loves the Lester’s as if they were his own family. They’re more his family than his actual family. “Thank you.”

“Always,” she says. Dan swears he feels just a little bit lighter. 

 

True to their word, Phil's parents fly in the next day. They all gather in Phil’s room, placing items around to make him feel more at home. Dan wishes they were actually at home. 

He doesn’t let go of Phil’s hand once. Not when the nurses come in, not when there’s four people crowded around the room, not even when Dan falls asleep. He only leaves Phil alone when he’s sternly told out of the room by a disgruntled looking doctor. 

Martyn and Cornelia show up with Phil’s parents the next day, and Dan can only smile weakly at them. He gave up on the whole “I’m fine” facade a while ago. 

Phil is asleep at the moment, having drifted off to incessant circles from Dan’s thumb on his wrist. 

“How is he?” Cornelia asks, eyebrows pressed together.

Dan shrugs half-heartedly, “I honestly don’t know. He gets worse every day. We’re lucky he’s still breathing on his own.”

“And how are you, Dan?” Kathryn presses, 

He’s taken aback. He hadn’t had time to think about himself when he was more concerned with Phil. “Pretty awful,” he says honestly, “You?”

“I’m not sure what I expected,” she admits, “We’re not fantastic, either.”

Dan snorts, “You birthed him, you have a right to be.”

Kath scoots over on the bench so that she can rest her hand on Dan’s shoulder. She gives him a reassuring smile, “Dan, honey, you know him better than anyone in the whole world. Even better than me, I’d guess. If I were to say someone has a right to be upset, it’s you.”

Dan can feel water welling up in his eyes. He blinks them back as best he can, “I’m not sure I can do this,” he whispers, voice wavering. 

Kath takes in a deep breath, then exhales slowly, “I’m not sure anyone could. You’re one of the brave ones.”

Dan lowers his eyes, “I don’t think I want to be.”

Clammy fingers gently squeeze his right then, and Dan’s head jerks up to Phil. 

Phil smiles, coughs, and then musters up enough energy to survey the room. “Hi,” he sputters.

“Hello, child.” Kath says, standing up and ruffling his hair fondly.

“Mum!” Phil shifts, winces, and stops moving, “How are you?”

“Fine, dear,” she smiles close-lipped. It doesn’t go to her eyes, “shouldn't I be asking you that?”

Phil shrugs weakly, “Could be worse, I guess.”

Nobody speaks for a long time. They all know what he means, but no one wants to talk about it. Dan knows they’ll have to at some point, or none of them will get through this. 

The room clears out an hour before visiting hours close. The Lesters said they needed to settle into the flat and rest, but Dan figured that they were just giving him some time alone with Phil.

He was grateful, they really did need to talk, as much as he was dreading it. 

Silence has become a normal thing these last few days. Dan really hates the silence. 

“I know you want to say something, Dan, I can see it on your face.”

He doesn’t argue. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Phil sighs as best he can, mostly just making a series of strange wheezing sounds, “It’s not like I asked for this.”

Dan lets their eyes meet for the first time in weeks, “I know, I know. But I can’t help but feel like there’s something I could’ve done.”

Something passes across Phil’s face, as if he’s just realised something. “It’s not your fault, Dan. It’s no one’s fault.”

“I’m just…” _Scared_ , he thinks. “Worried,” he says.

It’s as if Phil can read his mind, “I’m more worried about you.”

Dan furrows his eyebrows, “You’re worries about _me_ , when you are literally…” he gestures to the ICU unit next to the bed.

Phil squeezes his hand. “It’s alright, you can say it.”

“I can’t.” Dan whispers.

Phil sniffles, speaking so softly Dan has to crane his neck to hear him, “We can’t change the fact that I’m- I’m going to die. I just…” he closes his eyes, “I need to know that you’ll be alright after…” he can’t finish.

Dan lets the waterworks fall, “Of course I won’t be fucking alright. You make me happier than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m nothing without you.” He thinks it as he says it, surprising himself with the truth of it. 

Phil’s eyes widen, and he scrambles to pull Dan up next to him as best he can. He buries his nose in Dan’s collarbone, taking shaky breaths between every word. “That’s not true,” he whispers, “You deserve to be happy, regardless of if I’m there or not.”

“I don’t want to be.” Dan’s voice is muffled into Phil’s hair.

Phil leans back a little, cupping Dan’s face in his hands, “I love you, so much.”

Dan kisses him, soft and saying a whole lot more than he ever could manage out loud. “I love you too. I’ll never stop.”

Phil smiles through the tears, “I know,” he says, tugging Dan as close to his heart as he can get. 

 

When Dan was told six months, he expected six months. 

He got four. 

 

Every treatment they had tried was useless. Even the ventilation device they tried hadn’t been doing much. 

Phil had reached stage four a few days ago. Half the time, he couldn’t breathe without assistance. All they had left to do was wait. Needless to say, it was the most excruciating experience of Dan’s life. 

Phil had requested for the nurses to leave them alone for a bit, and none of them were to refuse the request of a dying man. 

Dan is in his chair beside Phil. He’d grown to become very familiar with this chair. In fact, he’s sure he’d left an imprint that wouldn’t fade for a long time. It makes him sad in a strange way, to know that. 

Phil has his hands clasped on his stomach, one of Dan’s trapped between them. His face is pale and his breaths are coming out slower now. He actually looks fairly normal from afar.

“Dan?” Phil asks.

Dan tightens his grip and looks up, “Yeah?”

“It doesn’t really hurt anymore,” he whispers. He looks distant, his mind wandering far from where Dan can see. 

Dan bites his lip, smiles softly, “I’m glad.” He is, he really is.

Phil clutches his fingers tight, “Everything is going to be okay.” 

Dan can’t tear his eyes from Phil’s. They just look at each other for a moment, communicating in the same way they have for years. It hurts so badly, but Dan can’t do anything. He can’t say anything. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. All he can do in that moment is love. He needs Phil to know, and he doesn’t want Phil to be alone. 

“Promise me something?” Phil asks, finally.

Dan blinks, nodding, “Anything.”

“Live for me.”

Dan presses his lips together, swallowing thickly. He nods again, “Okay.”

Phil nods in affirmation, bringing Dan’s shaking hands to his lips and kissing his knuckles gently. He stares at Dan, eyes traveling all over his features, the same way he did the first time they met, memorizing them. He smiles, gentle and reassuring. “I love you.”

Dan blinks the tears from his eyes so that he can fully look at Phil, “I love you too,” he whispers, just loud enough for Phil to hear, “Always.”

Phil’s lips twitch up, eyes softening when they meet Dan’s one last time. Then he closes his eyes. 

Dan barely registers the monotone beep that happens after that, nor does he register the people moving around him. Dan doesn’t let go. He never will. Not even when he’s escorted out into the hall and not when there’s a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

How he ends up at home, he doesn’t know. There’s someone there, he thinks, but he’s not really sure. He’s not even sure what’s happened in the past few hours. He just knows that Phil is gone. 

 

Louise is in his flat, as he finds out the next day. She’s everywhere at once. She brings him food and blankets and makes him get up to brush his teeth when he can’t bring himself to do it. 

He doesn’t move from his bed for three days. He sleeps on the right side of the bed just to feel normal again. He sleeps to forget. 

On the fourth day, Louise drags him out of his room and into the lounge to watch a movie with her. 

She brings them both hot chocolate with marshmallows floating on top. Dan cries when he sees them. 

They watch the movie in complete silence. He doesn’t know what movie it is, but he decides that it’s terrible. Dan is wrapped up in blankets and Louise keeps watching him like he’s about to break. 

He’s not sure he won’t. 

The mugs are empty, and Louise makes to grab them, but Dan stops her, grabbing them before she can.

“I’ll do it,” he says.

“Dan…” Louise places a gentle hand on his knee. 

He wrenches himself out of her grip, standing up so quickly that he nearly stumbles into the table. “Damn it, Louise, let me do just this one thing on my own!” he snaps. 

Louise retracts, “Of course,” she says, voice softer than it was a moment ago.

He mutters an apology under his breath as he drags himself to the kitchen. He goes to place the mugs in the sink, but his hands are shaking and he misses one of them, sending it clattering to ground with a loud _crash!_

Dan’s knees finally give up on him, and he hits the ground hard enough to bruise. He doesn’t care. His whole body begins to tremble along with his hands, and he can feel the tears start spilling out of his eyes in torrents. He can’t see anything, he can’t hear anything, he can’t even feel the damned ground beneath him. All he knows is that this is the first time he’s let himself cry since-

All of a sudden, there’s something warm rubbing against his back. Then a voice, “It’s okay, Dan. It’s okay. You’re not alone,” it says. 

Dan chokes on whatever words are trying to escape, and he can’t do anything but fall flush against the person next to him, face buried in cotton. 

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, on the disgusting kitchen floor, surrounded by the broken pieces of a mug, but it happens. And he cries. 

His throat only works once he’s stopped convulsing with every breath, and he manages, “This fucking sucks.” Understatement of the year, but it’s all he can get to come out of his mouth. 

It’s only then when he sees just how sad Louise’s eyes are. Her face is damp, and there are circles under her eyes where her makeup has smeared. She looks exhausted, and a little lost. She smiles sadly at him, “He was the love of your life, Dan, of course it fucking sucks.”

 _Past tense_ , he thinks, _she’s using past tense_.

“Fuck,” Dan can taste the salt on his lips, “He- he’s really gone.”

Louise doesn’t respond for a long while. “It’s not your fault, Dan.” Both of her hands are on his back now. Whatever she’s doing, it’s magic.

Dan doesn’t even know if he blames himself. That’s the worst part. “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s fucking gone.”

“I know,” is all she says, “I know.” Then she envelopes him into a hug he has no choice but to relax into, and he simply lets himself be held. She produces tissues from somewhere, and passes one to Dan.

He takes it, and he can breathe again, “Why are you so good at this?” he sniffles, wiping at his eyes with a second tissue.

Louise shrugs, “I’m a mum. It’s all instincts.”

That reminds him, “I need to talk to Kath.”

“Later,” she scolds, “I’m sure they need time too.”

“You’re right.” Of course she is. She always is. 

“Right now, we need to get you out of this damn apartment.” Louise gets up and extends a hand for him to take. He takes it. 

“Where are we going?” He asks. 

“Anywhere,” she says, “Just not here.”

They don’t end up anywhere. They walk for an hour in no particular direction before they sit on a lonely bench in a lonely park.

Dan’s not really sure it’s working, as everything somehow reminds him of Phil. This bench, the lamppost across the way, the dog that ambles past them, dragging its owner along behind it. 

He’s just about to get up and walk out of there without Louise when she speaks.

“You can’t bottle everything up, Dan,” she says, low and soothing, “I know you want to, but you can’t.”

“Yeah, well, fuck emotions,” he mutters, scuffing his shoes against the pavement.

“I’m serious.”

“I know, Louise!” he raises his voice more than he meant to, “Okay, I know. Just… give me a little while, okay?”

She gives him a look, and he pleads silently with her. Finally she says, “Okay,” and that’s it. 

 

He stays at Louise’s for a day, until he calls Phil’s mum. She sniffles when she picks up, but her voice is still light when she agrees to dinner that evening.

He goes back to his flat alone, despite Louise’s insistence that she come too. He tells her he needs to do this alone, and she eventually lets him go. 

He walks in, drops his keys, and stands in the doorway for a long time. He can’t bring himself to do anything. He can’t even cry. It’s too quiet, and he hates it. He’s barely made it up the stairs when the buzzer sounds. 

It’s Kathryn, the other three Lesters trailing behind her. She sees that Dan is still wearing his coat, and reaches out to rub his arm. 

There’s been a lot of silence in his life as of late, and Dan is just about ready to scream. He’s in the kitchen, making coffee or tea or whatever he’s supposed to be making when Kath finds him. 

“I would ask how you are, but I already know the answer,” she gestures to her eyes. Dan reaches up self-consciously, knowing that they’re red-rimmed and dry from all the tears he’s shed. 

He laughs half heartedly, “Yeah, same for you.” 

She smiles tiredly, “It’s not going to be easy, you know? It’s okay to feel the way you do.”

Dan smiles, genuine, “I know. I’m just not sure what to do now.”

“You live.”

He tilts his head at her, seeing Phil’s resemblance to her more clearly than he ever had, “He told me the same thing. Made me promise to live for him.”

Kath smiles, eyes glazing over, lost in thought, “So that’s what you’ll do.”

Dan bites his lip, “I’m not sure I know how,” he admits, “I don’t know how to tell people, let alone what to say when I get that far.”

Kathryn rests her hand atop of Dan’s and squeezes, “Just speak from your heart. That’s what will mean the most to them,” she rests her palm over her heart, “and to you.”

Dan takes a deep, shuddering breath in, “Thank you.”

She smiles, “No,” she says, her words firm, “Thank you.”

Dan swears he hugs her for hours. 

 

He takes the camera up to their room that night, after everyone has gone. The moon room looks much more mellow than he remembers. He doesn’t mind, for some reason, it feels appropriate. 

He sets up the tripod with familiar fingers and sits down on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes. They still burn from dryness, and the last time he looked in a mirror they were disgustingly splotchy and red, but he doesn’t care. It’s how he feels. 

He takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and turns on the camera.

**Author's Note:**

> this hurt me to write, but I did it! I managed to write this thing in a day and a half. I'm just as surprised as you are.
> 
> as always, catch me on tumblr @manateelester


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